Sparking Stars

T'was a wayward flame that caught my eye,

A falling star,

Fell from heaven.

Cast out for being perfect,

Only God can be perfect.

As punishment for being created beautiful,

Burns line his face,

Spelling out hideous.

Yet he isn't bitter,

Still he plays with fire.

He creates it now,

And t'was a wayward flame that caught his eye,

A girl with hair the color that had burned him.

Yet he felt the passion in which God felt jealous,

And with it he loved her.

God saw he had done wrong,

Yet He was still jealous,

For this burnt being could forgive.

God could not forgive him,

For being perfect.

Out of spite,

God burned his lover,

With the passion He never had.

Now his burns spelt broken,

As well as hideous.

God watched as he made use,

Of the scars given to him,

For something he never did.

And God felt shame,

Yet he was still bitter.

T'was a wayward flame that caught his eye,

A second time,

God watched with growing dread.

Man fell for man,

A burning passion.

Sparks flew,

Hammer on anvil,

Love forged in heated tales.

God smote him too,

Burned him where he stood.

Yet man was kind,

Still was not bitter,

Still could love.

God watched and cried,

For how could he have ruined this man?

God had not ruined him,

Not yet,

He simply thought so.

God could not forgive himself,

But still he watched.

T'was a wayward flame that caught God's eye,

A falling star,

A flaming spark.

The perfect man,

With burns and ruined perfection.

God observed with growing attention,

Then wasn't jealous anymore,

Instead coming to adore.

Man forgave God,

But could not love Him.

God added to his burns,

Man's everlasting scars,

Another flame.

Reaching up,

Twirling to leave a mark.

Hideous,

Broken,

But Fair.